


While The Night Is Young

by InterstellarVagabond



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Found Family, Gen, character and relationship tags may change this is a work in progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:53:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27984906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterstellarVagabond/pseuds/InterstellarVagabond
Summary: "I know that this goal of yours comes from a place of great compassion and pain," Alfred sighed. "I just worry about where it will lead you, the consequences you will face. I… I already lost your parents, and I couldn't stand to lose you too.""You won't," Bruce said with certainty. "From now on, Alfred, we don't lose anyone else. Not ever."Bruce Wayne, at eight years old, watches his parents die and the corrupt police force do nothing to prevent such atrocities from happening again. Five years later, he becomes Batman years ahead of schedule as a thirteen year old vigilante takes to the streets of Gotham.
Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	While The Night Is Young

**Author's Note:**

> Basically a friend asked how old Bruce was when he became Batman and suggested it would be interesting to see a teenage Batman, and since I love Artemis Fowl and ASOUE and other stories where very smart children with a lot of trauma get into adventures involving adults who fail and adults who care I was all over that shit.   
> Still a work in progress, absolutely making it up as I go, so characters and relationship tags may change but the main found family focus will of course remain because what's a Batman story without found family?  
> Hope you enjoy! Drop a comment if you liked!

  
  


Gotham was a city known for two things:

One. The glittering world of the rich and famous, the golden lit skyscrapers of those who lived comfortably in the smog ridden heavens of the city. Legacies, family names, wealth, and history.

Two. The darkened criminal underworld where no one treads safely, and wealth exchanges hands in a way far more honestly bloody than the white collar criminals enjoying cocktail parties several stories above their heads. 

Gotham is a world of criminals above and below, but it's the below that has people frightened. Stories like the double homicide of Crime Alley spread like wildfire, and turn the attention away from the embezzling politician to the orphaned son of the Wayne family kneeling in a pool of his parents' blood.

As a Gotham city cop, Jim Gordon was well acquainted with both sides of the city, and even more familiar with corruption. Even now as he guided the young boy to a seat in the precinct's offices he could see his fellow officers well at work accepting bribes or getting too rough in the interrogation rooms. 

Despite all that he was a firm believer in changing things from the inside.

"You want something to drink?" He offered, crouching down to be at eye level with the kid. 

"..."

"Your uh… butler said he's on the way," Gordon assured him. "I know tonight's been… a nightmare, but I promise you we'll get your family justice."

Bruce raised his gaze up from the floor, just in time to see the flash of a gun discharging around the corner.

There were screams as a handcuffed homeless man ducked and ran for the exit, only to be felled as the pursuing officer managed to hit his target.

The homeless man screamed in agony, and the officer that hauled him to his feet  _ laughed. _

"Christ," Gordon tried to keep the swearing in his head for the kid's sake. "You've seen enough of that tonight." He had half a mind to go find the bastard playing target practice in the middle of the precinct and throw him against a wall, but that wouldn't change anything. He just had to keep working, work his way up to the top and weed out the bad apples.

Bruce Wayne watched as this kind man who had spoken to him straight without demeaning pity, did nothing for the victim at hand.

Bruce Wayne was not a believer in changing things from the inside.

Bruce Wayne, for the past thirty-three minutes, was a believer in  _ fear _ .

All he had learned tonight is that men with guns could hurt men without guns, and that those who were afraid often changed their behavior. 

Like how his parents, in their fear, lost their wit and guile at the thought of their son coming to harm. His father, the shrewd businessman, simply stepped in front of his wife and child in a vain plea for their safety.

That poor man being hauled bleeding back to a cell, in his fear no longer trusted the uniformed individuals tasked with keeping him and his city safe.

And his own fear? The fear that had made his blood run cold the minute he'd seen that gun? 

It was changing Bruce too.

"Oh, thank heavens!" Alfred rushed to his side, kneeling down and reaching for him before pausing as always. "Master Bruce, is touch alright at the moment?"

The family butler had always afforded him a careful concern for boundaries, knowing that several thousand dinner parties and paparazzi had left Bruce a bit sick of having his cheeks pinched and his arm grabbed to be dragged into photographs.

Rather than answer with words, Bruce fell into Alfred's arms, welcoming the security they brought.

His tiny shoulders shook with tears. He'd thought he was done with crying, but clearly that wasn't so. 

"Thank you," Alfred said to Gordon, nodding gratefully.

"Just doing my job… at least, doing what I can," Gordon sighed. "If there's anything else I can do, anything at all…"

"I will be sure to tell you," Alfred agreed. "But for now, I should get Master Bruce home."

Bruce didn't remember saying goodbye to Detective Gordon, or the car ride home. He didn't remember getting into bed either, but suddenly he found himself waking in the dark of his bedroom.

"Mother?" He called out, voice trembling. 

After all, who else would he seek out after a nightmare?

He left the bed, grabbing the flashlight reserved for late night reading from the nightstand. The manor was hard to navigate even during the day, but in darkness it might as well be a maze.

He followed the usual landmarks to his parents' room, tip-toeing along so he wouldn't wake Alfred and risk being gently escorted back to his room.

When he opened the door a cold night wind greeted him from the window left open to air the room while the family was gone to see the movie. Alfred had been unable to bring himself to enter the room, and so hadn't thought to close it.

Not only was there wind, but a sudden flurry of wings and high pitched screeching as something dark rushed towards Bruce. For a moment a bat was silhouetted in the light from his flashlight, and Bruce cried out in surprise.

He dropped his flashlight, hands flying up to defend his face as the equally startled creature bumped uselessly against his hand before turning and escaping out the open window it had entered from.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred called, running down the hallway towards the panicked cry.

He found the boy on his knees in the doorway of the master bedroom, staring in awe out the window.

"Oh dear…" Alfred picked up the flashlight. "I am… so sorry, Master Bruce… I shouldn't have left you alone."

"Did they find him yet?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Did they find the man that killed my parents?"

Alfred looked down at the youthful eyes staring up at him. They carried a weight no child's eyes should have, and… a sort of anger that shook the butler to his core.

"I… have not heard anything from Detective Gordon…"

"So they haven't… of course not." Bruce got back to his feet. "He can't be out there anymore, scaring people,  _ hurting  _ people."

"I'm sure the police are doing their very best to-"

"They're not!" Bruce argued. "The police are bullies and they don't care about anything except that my parents won't be giving them anymore money!" He stamped his foot, a gesture that should have been reserved for tantrums about bedtimes and dessert, not… this. "I'll find him."

"Master Bruce, you have every right to feel as you do." Alfred knelt down and when Bruce seemed okay with closeness he put his hands on his shoulders. "But you cannot put yourself in such danger. I won't allow it."

Bruce was silent, realizing for the first time how big the world was and how small he was. It was a realization most people had when they left for college or moved away from their parents.

Now, at eight years old Bruce Wayne was realizing what most did in their twenties.

That the world had no order, no destiny, no self imposed karmic justice.

And that he was the only one in control of his life now.

Alfred saw the boy back to bed, and pulled up a chair at his bedside. He knew there was nothing he could do to ease the pain of such a tragic loss, but he refused to let Bruce feel that pain alone.

"I'm here," he promised. "I'm going to stay."

Those words meant more to Bruce then he knew.

And they become the one certainty in his life as the young boy touched by tragedy drifted off to sleep, with visions of bats flying free into the night in his head…

  
  


"Hah!" Bruce snapped the board with his hand, turning and readying a kick that snapped the next board Alfred offered.

Self defense classes had proven to be just the thing the young billionaire needed to feel secure after such a troubling event. Already the nightmares were beginning to fade, and some of Bruce's former energy was returning to him. Despite the troubling passion and dedication that Bruce held for martial arts, Alfred still found himself reassured by the new hobby.

The door to the gym opened as a servant led the chief of police into the gym and dojo. Bruce snapped one last board before pausing, grabbing a towel to drape around his shoulders and pat his forehead dry.

"You wanted to see me uh…  _ Mr. Wayne _ ?" The chief said, clearly putting fake honor on the title. He couldn't help it, he was talking to an eight year old in a gi. 

"Yes." Bruce accepted the bottled water Alfred offered him, and waved aside the concerned look his butler and lifelong friend offered with it. "I just wanted to formally inform you that the Wayne family will no longer be providing financial support to the Gotham city police."

"W-what?" The chief could practically see guns, armor, bullets, and paperclips vanishing before his eyes. "I mean… kid, c'mon… are you even… in charge of that?"

"I am the sole inheritor of my parents' fortune, and while Alfred controls the wealth until I come of age, he does what I tell him to," Bruce said, not missing a beat. "And I've told him to stop paying you."

"Kid, you gotta think of what you're doing here," the chief said worriedly, starting to sweat more than Bruce was after his workout. "This is gonna affect lives, jobs, people!"

"I've decided my money will be put to better use elsewhere," Bruce said. "And affecting lives and jobs is a welcome side effect. I don't wish to fund the likes of  _ you _ ."

"Why I oughta-"

"That will be all. Aurelia will show you out." Bruce gestured to the servant that had brought the police chief in.

As the chief left, fuming and worrying, Bruce watched the servant vanish through the doorway.

"Alfred… could you manage this household alone?" He asked carefully. "Were it just… me and you?"

"Sir?" Alfred said with surprise. "I… suppose I could, yes."

"Then dismiss the staff. See they get enough severance pay to last them until they are employed elsewhere."

"Master Bruce, are you quite sure?" Alfred asked, brow furrowing.

"I am. I don't want anyone here but us. The people I trust." Bruce's brow furrowed too, making him look older than his eight years. 

"Life will be… unpleasant if we two are the only people you trust," Alfred warned.

"Life is already unpleasant. My parents are dead." Bruce set aside the towel and water bottle. "Let's keep going."

Alfred knew that Bruce had always been intelligent and mature for his age, but this sudden jump to maturity through trauma deeply worried him.

Still, he was a servant to this family, and while he would never carry out an order that brought Bruce to harm, he would let the boy cope how he see fit… so long as it didn't get out of control…

He often looked back on that moment and wondered what exactly his foolish self thought "out of control" was.

Because, vigilante justice probably should have been the cut off point.

_ Five years later  _

The radio chatter in his earpiece told Bruce that the family was as of yet unharmed.

Two hostages: a woman and her daughter, held at gunpoint by husband and father- drunk, angry, behaving irrationally.

From his vantage point atop the neighboring rooftop he could hear the gun go off, something shattering, a young girl screaming.

His eyes narrowed.

"Master Bruce, might I recommend once more that we let the police handle this?" Alfred's channel cut into the police network in his earpiece.

"..." Bruce didn't answer, instead removing the prototype grappling gun from his belt and firing it at the opposite rooftop.

"So that's a no then?" Alfred said, voice growing more fearful. "Oh dear… please be careful…"

Bruce tested the grapple line to make sure it was secure before he leapt off the roof.

He aimed his feet at the window, keeping them together and breaking through the glass.

The girl screamed again as Bruce burst into the apartment, startling the man with the gun.

"What the fuck?" He fired wildly at the black clad figure, missing each time as Bruce rolled out of danger.

His hood obscured his vision slightly, a note to keep in mind when designing his actual outfit. At the moment he was in a simple sweatshirt and dark colored jeans, and a domino mask to protect his identity. 

Bruce got back to his feet and threw a throwing star at the man's weapon, disarming him. 

"Shit!" The man winced, shaking his hand in pain before grabbing a nearby chair and throwing it.

Bruce caught the chair in midair, and was almost surprised by how successful the maneuver was as he threw it back and knocked the man onto the floor.

He leapt forward for the final strike, but the man grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground.

"Undermining me, all of you! Undermining me!" He squeezed, cutting off Bruce's air. 

Bruce kicked and struggled, his vision starting to go black.

"No one listens to me in this goddamn house! I'm always the bad guy!" The man tossed Bruce into the wall.

Bruce struggled back up to his feet, reaching into his sleeve as he tasted blood.

"You're right," he coughed, throat aching. He pressed the button on the small disc before throwing it, letting it adhere to the man's shirt. "You are the bad guy."

The device began emitting a sonic frequency, one that drew to the scene…

… _ hundreds  _ of bats.

"AHHH!" The man screamed, flailing ineffectually and backing away from the confused animals. He backed right up against the window, tumbling out.

Bruce's eyes widened, and he ran after him, grabbing his grappling gun and firing it as he fell.

He grabbed the man's arm, wincing as the grappling gun caught hold and the sudden stop and supporting of the man's weight popped his arm from its socket.

"Gahh!" He cried out in pain but grit his teeth, pressing the unlock button so the grapple line could extend until it was safe to drop the man to the ground, unconscious from shock and totally harmless.

Bruce tumbled to the ground, his grappling gun retracting as he found his footing.

"A… Alfred…" he gasped, clutching at his arm and hearing footsteps approaching. "I need immediate extraction."

He realized suddenly he heard footsteps from behind him too, and turned to see the man conscious once more and rearing back for a punch.

Before the attack could land, he was struck from behind with a double handed attack. 

Alfred panted, eyes wide with fear for his young charge. 

"I'm sorry, Master Bruce, I couldn't just wait in the car!" He said.

Bruce shook his head, catching his breath as well. "It's fine. Let's just get out of here."

The pair ran off to the unregistered vehicle waiting to take them away, and were gone by the time the police showed up.

  
  


"Ahh!" Bruce screamed as Alfred popped his arm back into place with a guilty wince.

"I should never have allowed this, you're beaten to a pulp and I'm supposed to be taking care of you!" He rambled. "I've failed as your guardian!"

"You know I don't like it when you say that," Bruce huffed, moving his arm experimentally.

"I know, and I'm sorry, but what kind of guardian allows their charge to go running across rooftops in a mask? Fighting men four times their size and-" Alfred trailed off as Bruce picked up the remote from the coffee table to unmute the TV. 

Sitting there in the cozy sitting room warmed by a fireplace, watching the evening news, it was almost like they were a normal household. 

But they weren't, and the young girl on screen attested to that.

"It was amazing!" She said, her tear stained face now awestruck. "He saved our lives! He summoned a whole bunch of bats and threw my dad out the window! H-he's… he's my hero! My mom and I finally feel safe! The police are finally taking him to jail after all those other times they just ignored us!"

Alfred sighed, already knowing the look he would see in Bruce's eyes when he turned around.

And there it was:

Satisfaction. Pride. And perhaps most damning of all for the poor butler: hope.

"I… I did that…" Bruce whispered. "I saved her… I can save people."

"Yes… that you can," Alfred admitted. "And it seems the police really were unable to do what you did… or even unwilling."

"You see why I have to do this?" Bruce gestured to the screen. "Those people are alive, and not because of the police who kept ignoring the problem. Maybe my parents would still be alive too if someone like me had been around back then!"

"It's hard to argue with your logic but-"

"But you're going to anyway," Bruce guessed. "Alfred, no matter what you do or say I'm going to fight crime. At least if you help me you can watch my back."

Alfred felt like Bruce's father, but he was still also his employee. That power balance made it very hard to accept he could do anything to stop him.

"I know that this goal of yours comes from a place of great compassion and pain," Alfred sighed. "I just worry about where it will lead you, the consequences you will face. I… I already lost your parents, and I couldn't stand to lose you too."

"You won't," Bruce said with certainty. "From now on, Alfred, we don't lose anyone else. Not ever."


End file.
